The Misadventures of a Dark Lord and his Minions
by GinnyWazlibRocks
Summary: Malfoy Manor is never free of the incidents caused by it's occupants and a combination of questionable plots and an ample supply of highly flammable objects. There's nothing Voldy can't do - or at least attempt to do, which is pretty much the same thing.O
1. The Goldyn Shaft of Mystics

AN: First off, I apologize. I have not shown my face on fanfic for ages. I have no one to blame but myself. And school. And Barnes and Noble. And theatre. But mainly myself.

Second, I realize this is a whole new story, and I have still not completed Vote for Voldy or Holiday Cheer. I intend to finish VfV – eventually. Holiday Cheer will be added onto whenever, well, there's a holiday.

So please, enjoy this, fair readers. And remember: I treasure your reviews.

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A trickle of sweat inched it's way down his forehead.

Briefly, a hand swept up to flick it away. He quickly regretted the action; he couldn't risk losing control like that. He nearly had just now.

Determined, the red, snake-like eyes narrowed, focusing. Concentration radiated from them.

_He could do this._

His grip tightened, beginning to shake. Horrified, he tried to regain pristine control.

_No! Not now! I've come so far!_

Voldemort could feel the fear welling up within him. More sweat beaded above his eyes. He made no movement to wipe the droplets away. He couldn't risk it.

Suddenly, his heart exploded with joy. _There it is!_

Accelerating, the Dark Lord raced towards his goal, practically drooling with anticipation. If he could just dodge the orc demons he could hit 'cntrl+alt+enter' and pick up the Goldyn Shaft Of Mystics and then –

"Sir!"

Voldemort shrieked, dropping his mouse and spinning away from his computer desk. Snape had hurtled in, panting and wheezing, his flowered apron askew.

"What?" the Dark Lord asked wildly, arms flailing as he attempted to regain control on his rolling chair. "What's going on? Who's on fire?"

"No one! We're out of sugar, sir!"

Voldemort froze, mid-gesture. "What... did you say?"

"We're out of sugar sir! And I'm supposed to make cherry tarts for the British Buddhist convention tonight!"

There was something strange happening to the Dark Lord's eyes. They appeared to be bugging out.

"You interrupt me... distract me from War of the Worlds... barge in during a key moment in my achieving the ultimate status of Highe Mastyr of All Yee Mystics and Crytures of Thye Byonde... to tell me we are out of _sugar_?!"

Snape nodded earnestly. "Brown sugar too, sir! And powdered! Otherwise I would have substituted with those! All we have are twelve and a half packets of Splenda, and I couldn't use that!"

The Soy-Reincarnation Faster held up a sad little yellow packet as evidence.

Voldemort's eyes, which had reached a rather dangerous point in popping out of his skull, acquired a twitch.

Snape, sensing danger, slowly began to back towards the door. "Sir...?" he asked nervously. "Are you okay... sir?"

Mechanically, the Dark Lord turned his head to the computer screen. He looked just in time to see his Warrior Elyfe body be tackled by little animated orc demons. They swarmed away, leaving a cartoonish skeleton.

The screen flashed. The speakers played a loser song. A message popped up. It read:

_YOU HAVE BEEN ANIALATED. ONLYE TRUE OF HEARTE AND BRAVE OF SWORDE MAY HOLDE THEE GOLDYN SHAFT OF MYSTICS. BE BANISH__É__D TO HELL, FOR ONLYE THERE BEE WHATE THOU DESERV__É__D._

_- REPLAY-_

- _QUIT-_

As Voldemort read it, his body stiffened. It took only a few moments for the meaning to set in. He had lost his character. He would not be Highe Mastyr of All Yee Mystics and Crytures of Thye Beyonde. Grief took hold of him.

"Leave me," he chocked, eyes still locked on the screen, absorbing the glowing halo of light that encircled the Goldyn Shaft of Mystics, which still peeked faintly out from behind the annihilation message.

"... sir?" Snape asked uncertainly.

"Leave me!" the Dark Lord managed, collapsing beside his computer, sobbing.

The Soy-Reincarnation Faster vanished out the door, deciding to go ask the neighbors for some sugar instead.

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AN: Oh wow. This really is OC. I hope it doesn't get too crazy. But then again, I'd rather have crazy installments up instead of no installments at all. X)


	2. Understatements and Charades

AN: This one actually starts up a story line. We'll see how far it gets before the Veil of Randomness completely smothers it. Lol. Not. :P

Enjoy!

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Understatements were funny things, Lucius Malfoy, of Malfoy Manor, contemplated. Take, for example, the recent purchase now dominating roughly 50 percent of the volume of his living room.

To say that the previously mentioned purchase was big would have been an understatement. Also, to say that it was huge, massive, gigantic, enormous, mammoth, or colossal would have been _sorely_ underestimating it's size.

It was so... expansive (although this would have been an understatement as well) that Lucius found himself struggling to find an _over_statement.

Failing in this search, he resorted to finding an adjective that could perfectly describe his new television.

_Infinite_, he decided, was precisely what it was. The screen was _infinitely _black, and must contain an_ infinite _amount of digital pixels, that filled up a screen expanding _infinitely _into the corners of the room.

And, hopefully, would provide an _infinite_ amount of entertainment. For _eternity_.

Lucius smiled slyly to himself. He was getting good at this descriptive stuff.

Turning around brightly, he came face-to-face with a slightly charred Snape.

"There was a slight power surge," the Soy-Reincarnation Faster explained, a bit woozily, "but I fixed it."

"Capital!" Lucius exclaimed (he really would have to thank Bellatrix for that thesaurus she'd given him,) "Let's turn it on then!"

"There is a small little asterisk here," Snape said, holding up the television's manual.

"Now then, where'd I put the remote..." Lucius began to dig around through the piles of packaging peanuts. Snape continued desperately.

"And if you look down at the bottom of the page you'll find _another_ asterisk, next to a few little sentences, printed separately from the main text, something about a volume warning..."

"Ah, here it is!" Lucius hefted a remote that matched the TV proportionally. By this standard, it could have been used as a weapon against robbers. That or a coaster and a coffee table all in one.

"And, well, I couldn't help _reading_ the text by the second asterisk, and, it says that there is the risk of hearing loss–"

Lucius pressed the 'on' button.

There seemed to be a brief flash of complete noise, as if the entire world's sound was focusing directly into that room. And then, oddly enough, it seemed so loud it was silent...

" !" said Snape.

"What?" asked Lucius. His world was enveloped by the sound emitted by the speakers.

" ! ! !"

"I can't understand you," the Death Eater told Snape. "Speak up, man!"

Lucius watched mystified as Snape moved his mouth some more, as though trying to talk. Next to him, the Will and Grace piano theme song was being pumped steadily through speakers capable of 1,000 decibels.

Exasperated, Snape held up three fingers.

Lucius nodded, though still perplexed.

Snape tapped his arm once, and then mimicked opening a door.

"Oh!" Lucius cried. "Oh! Oh! I got this! I love this game! Okay, okay, um, okay..."

Repeating the action, Snape went incredibly slow as he mimed turning the door handle.

"Um, um, you're... opening a door! Opening a cabinet! Letting the dogs out! Greasing the door handle! No? Um..."

Snape gave up. He spun in a circle and looked expectantly at Lucius.

"You're... you're... spinning! Figure skating! Dancing! Am I close? Twirling? No? Damn... No wait! I got it! You're rotating! Close? Um, um, um, spinning, rotating, twirling, turning – turning? Is that right? Turning? Oh, one syllable... um, ah, oh, uh, turn! Turn! Is turn the first word? Really? Yes!"

Exuberant, Lucius waited for the next word. The TV continued to fill the room with sit-com laughter to loud to be heard.

Next, Snape tapped three fingers on his arm.

"Third word..." Lucius said, bobbing enthusiastically. "Okay. Alright. Okay. Um."

The Soy-Reincarnation Faster was imitating some sort of flipping motion...

"You're... swatting a fly. You're... you're... flipping a switch...? Yeah? Nearly? Shoot! Um...you're turning... you're turning the switch... down? You're turning it down?"

Snape rolled his eyes and continued the motion.

"No, no... well... what else do you do with a switch? Turn it up? No? Hm..."

Mentally, Snape slapped himself in the face. He resisted doing so physically, because he knew it would only confuse Lucius more.

"Okay. Turn blank down. Turn blank below. Turn blank..."

The Death Eater's eyes widened.

"Turn blank _off_!" he cried, jumping into the air. Snape gave a silent cheer.

Lucius paused. "Turn _what_ off?" he pondered aloud.

Nearly exploding with repressed frustration, Snape jabbed a finger in the direction of the television...

"Turn... the TV off?" Lucius hazarded.

"_YES!_" Snape shrieked, just as the Death Eater hit the 'off' button on the remote, and sound within human register re-entered the room.

Lucius looked at Snape, shocked. "Snape," he scolded. "Inside voices! This is not a playground!"

Nothing in the Soy-Reincarnation Faster's expression could have given away the fact that he was hardly an inch away from strangling Lucius right then and there, except, for perhaps, the slight shudder beneath his left eye.

"I need..." he said, inhaling carefully, "my tea. The kitchen door... will be locked. Please do not try... to force it open."

He began to shuffle through the drifts of packing peanuts.

"Okay," Lucius called after him brightly. "I'll just ring you when I want some munchies then?"

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Up above all this madness, evil reigned. Evil was quick, and evil was cunning. Evil was heartless and...

Voldemort scowled, interrupted in the midst of his genius personification of evil for his soon-to-be bestselling autobiography by perhaps the most fearsome adversary of all.

Writers Block.

He leaned back in his chair from Bill Gates, now regretting the choice of buying something supposedly sat in by a computer wiz rather than an ultimately famous author. He could use some of the ultimately famous author's creativity to rub off on him right about now.

Another good word to describe evil...

"Lucius!" he shouted over his shoulder in the general direction of the door to the hall. "Go get the thesaurus Bellatrix gave you!'

He waited for a moment for a response. He could here nothing but the Will and Grace theme song, which was, quite honestly, a bit loud.

When Lucius still failed to reply, the Dark Lord turned back to his PC, muttering something about incompetent work labor. He was trying to pull up when his stomach growled.

Voldemort pursed his lips, peeved. This was not the time to be hungry! Didn't being an immortal Dark Lord sort of reprieve him of such tiresome bodily functions?

"Ooh," he said aloud suddenly. "That's good. That's very good. I'll have to put that in my autobiography..."

He scribbled it down, ignoring the rumbling noises issuing from his torso.

Into the night he worked away, and didn't make it any farther than when he'd started. As disheartening as this was, Voldemort didn't mind, as long as he wasn't being defeated by that Potter Kid. In this respect, the Dark Lord could actually be considered to be fairly optimistic.

However, as the ticking clock hands neared 3 am, and the turkey legs began to dance across his keyboard tantalizingly, he decided that though he _thought_ he shouldn't have to eat because he was an immortal Dark Lord, it would still probably be a good idea to eat anyways.

He went downstairs, only to find the kitchen locked.

"Minion!" he demanded, pounding on the door. "I know you're in there! Now open the door, and come out slowly with your hands in the air!"

"Never!" cried the Soy-Reincarnation Faster from within. "I shall never surrender!"

It was at this moment that it became quite clear that everybody in Malfoy Manor had some how managed to get a hold of Bellatrix's stash of crack.

Drugs aside, Voldemort gave up and went into the living room to find Lucius in front of the TV, possibly watching the infomercial on Snuggies, or possibly sleeping with his eyes open. It was difficult to tell.

It was then, it the middle of the night, on a day that isn't relevant in any shape or form to the story, that a Kraft Macaroni and Cheese commercial came on _during_ the infomercial.

... And that, one could say, was where the misadventures bits _really _began.

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AN: Snuggies... ha haaa... what an entertaining concept...


	3. LateNight Gas Stations

AN: Oh dear. This one really is strange. That is about all the forewarning I can give you.

Enjoy...?

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"_Kraft Cheese And Macaroni! It's like your favorite noodle-oni..."_

Voldemort stood, transfixed by the commercial playing across Lucius's new TV. His eyes traced the animated noodle across the screen, down a waterslide of cheese, and into a pool where it was joined by more noodles and an orange dinosaur... thing.

"I want some..." he whispered to the darkness.

Lucius snored.

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The barricade had held up quite well, and Snape was pleased with it. He had been amazed at how well a combination of crumpet dust, water, and kitchen furniture had been able to effectively seal the door closed.

He had fallen asleep on the floor next to the oven, wrapped in his apron and clutching a tea tin to his chest like a teddy bear.

"Minion! Minion! Arouse!"

Snape's eyes slammed open.

"Minion, c'mon!" Voldemort shouted, banging on the door. "I've got a question to ask!"

Defiant, Snape stood. "I'll never give in!" he called hopefully.

There was a pause.

"... what? Minion, I've just got a question for you! I'm not going to force you to submit to me!"

Gaining confidence, Snape replied, "Give me liberty or give me death!"

"I just told you, I'm not trying to oppress you, I just want to know how late the gas station a couple blocks away is open!"

"We shall overco – wait, what?"

"How late is the 24-hour gas station open?" Voldemort repeated.

The Soy-Reincarnation Faster hesitated.

_Wait for it_... he thought.

On the other side of the door what sounded like a click of realization, a vehement obscenity, and a pair of feet shuffling off towards the front door.

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It was 4 am, halfway through Postman's shift.

He stood behind the gas station's check-out counter, fuming, his blazer now bearing an embroidered UPS symbol, the letters 'DMV' in Sharpie, and a plastic nametag displaying Kwik Trip's logo. Curse this recession...

Postman was considering going into the bathroom to catch a nap, seeing as there was no one in the store and wouldn't be for the next four hours, when the electronic bell by the door binged.

A customer walked in.

Postman was so shocked to see someone else even awake that he didn't even notice who it was until the man slammed a box of Kraft macaroni and cheese onto the counter.

Voldemort squinted closer at his clerk. "Do I know you?" he asked.

A shudder ran through Postman's body. "I sure hope not," he croaked, mentally reliving every single driving lesson he'd been forced to endure with the Dark Lord behind the wheel.

"You sure look familiar..." Voldemort insisted. "I'm almost positive we've met before..."

"Really?" squeaked Postman. He slammed his hand on the keypad for the register, too preoccupied with fearing another horrific experience with his ex-driving student to notice that he'd charged Voldemort 2,456 dollars and 83 cents.

"This recession sure is hitting pretty hard, huh?" the Dark Lord asked cheerfully, taking out his wallet.

"Mhm," was all Postman could manage as he tried to stuff the receipt into Voldemort's hand.

"Thankyouforyourpurchasepleasedon'tevercomeagain!" he called as the Dark Lord ambled back through the store and out onto the street.

Postman sank down, relieved that nothing too bad had occurred.

After a few sessions of deep breathing, he heard a strange noise.

_Tick... tick... tick..._

Fear shuddered through Postman. It sounded like a time bomb... but how could there possibly be a time bomb in this Kwik Trip?

Eyes like china plates with two speaks of squid ink on them, Postman peeked over the counter...

He had a horrible revelation.

_Voldemort left his wallet here!_

And...

_Voldemort's wallet is where the ticking is coming from!_

And finally...

_VOLDEMORT HAS A TIME BOMB IN HIS WALLET! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!_

It would have made sense to call 911, but sense is an endangered species in the sporadic jungles of Voldy's world, so instead Postman leapt the counter, grabbed the deadly wallet, and sped out the gas station, all the while the ticking growing more urgent.

As Postman tore through the night, panting rather unheroically, the theme from Chariots of Fire began playing in the background somewhere.

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AN: Dramatic, much? Hopefully this'll all tie in to make sense. But like I said, sense is an endangered speices...


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